Slow Dance on the Inside 46
by midnight pain
Summary: and they say they can’t keep doing this and they can’t ever end it because this is the only thing that feels right the only thing that’s real and whole and keeps them alive


Slow Dance on the Inside

4/6

_x_

still longing for what yesterdays lost  
and for all that tomorrow might bring  
The passion lost - taken, stolen  
The dreams we had and shared - shattered, broken

x

Tears are not inferior to dust and dreams and he remembers the sound of her voice at midnight. He remembers the touch of her skin in the dark, and the softness of her lips. He misses being able to see her, touch her, kiss her whenever he wants (in secret always in secret). The dust on the table is thick, even thicker across the picture frames surrounding the old portraits looking down at him in mild disgust. They didn't want him here any more than he wanted to be there (because it wasn't the same without them without her). Here, this place, held so many memories – some he never wanted to let go of, and others he would rather have forgotten. Graduation had brought them here, the three of them together (it was so hard to steal a moment alone a night a kiss the passion they never should have known but knew too well and loved too much). He told himself that he knew this was coming, that he knew it would eventually come to this (he denied and denied this day would ever come and it came and he wished it never had).

Ron trusted him. He had business to take care of with his father at the Ministry (Harry was glad upset he had to go because being alone with Hermione was beautiful torture). Harry stood in the doorway of her bedroom, watching her put things neatly in boxes (_don't go_ he wanted to say beg plead _please stay don't leave me here alone_) that, too, had grown dusty in this house. She didn't notice him there, doing nothing but watching her careful movements, the solemn expression on her face. She closed the box she placed the last of her books in, dust floating up into her face and waving it away.

"Sirius never did keep this place clean," he says, causing her to look up. He knows she doesn't want to go (_because you can lie to Ron but you can't lie to me because I can see it in your eyes_). "Then again, it was abandoned for the twelve years he spent in Azkaban, and considering his relatives you couldn't really expect anyone to keep house."

"That, Harry, is strikingly true," she says, avoiding his eyes (if she looked she'd want to stay and she knew that she couldn't she just couldn't). "Though, it really can't be blamed on him."

"No, it can't – for the twelve years he wasn't here. Even when he was out of Azkaban this place was a mess." he says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe.

(this silence between them is palpable painful and he wants it to go away to grab her hold her make her see that he loves her too much to let her move far enough away that he can't watch her sleep at night because that is painful too painful and_ oh god please don't go_)

"Harry," she says quietly, looking up at him (it never fails to amaze him when it came to him her them there was always pain in her eyes). "Please don't be upset. It's just that… for the first time Ron can do something on his own, without help, and… he needs to do that, you know?"

"And he needs you, too," he says. She looks away.

(through all the secrets lies betrayal deceit there was is always truth the painful truth they didn't don't want to recognize but have no choice because it was is always there biting gnawing obvious)

"Harry, please don't. You know that if I could stay here (with you) I would." she says, her eyes pleading with him to just understand. "I want to, Harry, but I can't."

"And us? What about that?" His voice is quiet, even, if not somewhat obviously disheartened. He is hurt and it's plain to see, but what more can they do? He knew that when the time came that she would go with Ron, because she was his, not Harry's. No matter what he could give, or how badly he wants her, it didn't matter because she was with Ron.

"We can't keep doing this."

"We've been taking turns saying that for four years."

(_please please don't make this harder because I don't want to leave you but you I know that I have to because it's just the way it is and I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry)_

"And you know we'll keep doing this dance," he says. "There is no end to it, Hermione. I love you, and you know that. And you love me. That doesn't just end; someone just 'can't' keep loving someone."

(and he's right she knows it he knows it but she says nothing because what can she say to something so devastatingly true?)

He moves from the doorway coming to stand in front of her; she stands with her arms crossed over her chest, deliberately looking out the window and not at his face. What more could they do? He was right, and they both knew it; there was no way to just stop loving someone, and that in itself was painful enough. Knowing she was leaving here to be with his best friend was killing him, killing her, but it was what she (maybe even he) had convinced herself was the right thing to do. He moves closer, pulling her arms away from her self, and instinctively she wraps them around him.

"I've dreamt so many time of what it would be like," he says softly, gently stroking her hair. "I used to dream of what our wedding would be like, what our kids would look like. For the longest time I dreamt of things working out, of being with you, being together." He pauses and rests his chin gently on the top of her head. "It's hard to accept that all those dreams were shattered, broken."

(and she used to dream still dreams too but she doesn't tell him because she doesn't want to break his heart anymore than its being broken now because it would kill her a little more)

"I love you so much," she whispers. "I don't want to do this." He knows she's crying now.

(she wants nothing more than to be in bed close to him in his bed with no barriers just him and her and skin and thrusting clutching needing wanting caught up in touching and lips and the feeling of him inside her)

"I know," he says, tilting her head up. He wipes a tear away with the pad of his thumb, bending down to capture her lips. He doesn't mean for it to be anything more than a mere brush of his lips against her, but the contact is amazing, and somehow it's out of his (and her) control. His lips become more insistent, and she melts in his hands. His hands are in her hair drawing her impossibly closer and her hands are clutching at his back, relishing in this stolen (forbidden) moment in the dusty room with no lights on.

(there is nothing that matters when they're close like this touching kissing warm and all he needs to feel alive is to be inside of her feeling her losing all sense of his end and her beginning not caring and feeling only feeling and her)

She pulls him closer, needing to be so much closer than this, her heart pounding (because it's him and he always does this to her and Ron could be here any moment but right now she doesn't care she doesn't care). He pulls his mouth from hers, breathing hard, feeling her breath against his wet lips. He needs this. He needs her (he always has does will). Without thought of caution he picks her up, his lips tracing a line down her jaw and neck, and she sighs his name (_Harry…_). There are no blankets on the bed, but it doesn't matter (he she doesn't care they don't need them just each other). She feels her skin flush with heat, feeling him pressing against her, the distinct hardness pressing into her hip.

(_We can't keep doing this_)

With ease he drops her clothes, piece-by-piece, beside the bed; her back arches at the feel of his mouth closing around her nipple. His hands are soft, holding her hips gently, trailing soft kisses between her breasts. Her hands are at the buckle of his belt, the button of his trousers, his shirt deposited on the dusty floor, and the boxes full of things around them are forgotten.

(_Please…_)

She clings to him. He holds on to her tightly (afraid of letting go too afraid of letting her go). She is overcome by the feeling of his body pressed against hers, the feeling of his warm skin sliding against hers, the feeling of his lips on hers, on her neck, her shoulder, his hand gently cupping her breast. She wraps her legs around him, urging him impossibly deeper (he wants to crawl inside her skin and stay there forever). She arches against him, her nails digging into his back (but he doesn't care because all he can feel is her all around him warm and pulsing).

(and they say they can't keep doing this and they can't ever end it because this is the only thing that feels right the only thing that's real and whole and keeps them alive)

"I love you," he whispers, his cheek against hers. She wants to speak but her breath is caught in her throat, and she can feel herself freefalling (she hears herself moan his name softly _Harry_ and that's all she knows him and his name and this feeling). She feels his muscles tense, his breathing hitches in her ear, and his warmth fills her over and over again. He brushes his fingers gently against her cheek. "I love you," he whispers again. She closes her eyes.

"I love you too," she whispers in return (and she means it means it so much it hurts means it more than anything she has ever meant in her life)

And she feels empty, cold, when he's gone from her embrace. Without him she doesn't feel whole, and he wonders if she knows how broken he feels without her. She hides the tears when he hands her her dusty clothes (and he turns his head away because he doesn't want her to see him cry). His clean shirt is dirty now, but it doesn't matter; he'll tell Ron he was helping her move boxes and Ron would believe it (just like he believed all the other excuses lies).

(And all she wants to do is stay in his arms)

He can't look at her, standing with his back to her, buttoning his trousers. It hurts to look at her face, to look in her eyes and know that he can't fix all the things that are wrong. It hurts to know that in her heart she wants to be with him, and it hurts to know in his heart they were meant to love each other so deeply, and never meant to be.

(_We can't keep doing this_ but they will because it's all they know need can't have)


End file.
